Iwas dressed for work because I’d worn my usual coat and black pants tointerview today. Driving like a maniac, I slammed my car into an employeeparking spot and snuck in through the side door of Lilou. Nobody noticed me.They were too busy with what they were doing.
Dinnerservice had just started, and the crash and clatter of the kitchen filled myears immediately. I paused just inside the door to watch the beautiful chaosthat defined my life. Rarely did I take a moment to savor the hustle andbustle. I was always a part of it, swept up in the movement and focus.
Everythingfelt familiar and foreign at the same time. I watched Dillon throw things in apan and whisk furiously at the sauce just beginning to simmer. Benny stood overa huge rib roast, slicing off ribeyes to order. Endo hurried back and forth ashe kept his dishwashers and bussers in line. Charlie murdered duck after duckafter duck.
Wyattreally needed to fire him.
Mygaze fell on my boyfriend and even in my head the word felt strange. But italso felt like not enough. After all these years, it was bizarre to think ofWyatt, my one-time nemesis, my one-time friend, as my boyfriend. The word anddescription felt juvenile, immature… lacking.
Hewas so much more than a boyfriend. He was my rock. He kept me grounded when allI wanted to do was fly off the handle. He was the man that had healed me andsaved me from myself. He challenged me, always pushing me to get better, and bebetter. He made me want better things. He was my heart and my hope and myfuture.
Andwhat we had together wasn’t just a relationship, it was the beginning ofsomething so beautiful my heart felt like it could burst.
Ihad never been in a relationship that felt so perfectly right. Not that we wereperfect. We couldn’t have been further from it. We still bickered and argued.We were still constantly trying to one up the other. But that only made ourstory more incredible.
Mypast had damaged me in a way I hated to admit. Nolan’s dismissal of what Ithought had been love had gouged my self-worth with an icepick. He’d made mefeel less than, unwanted. He’d broken me.
Wyattdid the opposite. He filled in those holes in my chest and promised he wouldkeep filling them in for as long as I needed him. He didn’t let distance scarehim or allow change to get in our way. He embraced our differences andcherished the person that I was. He made me feel loved and worthy and wanted.He healed me.
Ourlove healed me.
Iwatched him lean over a plate as he worked the finer details and garnishes, andthen he wiped the edge of the plate with a towel. His profile was cast inbright light from above, sharpening his jawline and nose, highlighting hismasculine cheekbone and the shaved side of his head. His tall toque stood atattention, and his crisp jacket hugged the lines of his muscular body. Iwatched his steady hands slash sauce over the protein and then delicatelysprinkle microgreens, turning an ordinary looking dish into a work of art.
Iwas so lucky to know him. Not just because I loved him, but because he was sogood at what he did, so dedicated to perfecting his craft and being the bestpossible chef out there. I had never met a man I respected and loved more.
AndI knew going forward, no matter how mad he made me, I still would never meetanother man that could compare to him.
Feelingmy gaze on him, he passed the plate to a server and turned to face me. Hismouth split into that breath-stealing grin and he cocked his head in wonder.“How’d you do?” he asked without saying hello.
Ilifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s hard to tell.”
“Didyou kick ass?” he asked.
Nibblingon my lip ring, I shrugged both shoulders this time. “Hopefully.”
Hestarted nodding and laughing. “Yeah, you kicked ass.”
Hisconfidence in me burned a blush on my cheeks and I realized the whole kitchenhad paused to watch us.
Wyattjerked his chin and said, “Come here.”
Itwas that small command that ruined me. He’d stopped caring about his kitchenand the food piling up in front of him. He didn’t notice his staff watching usor the clamor of diners on the other side of the in and out doors. All he sawwas me.
Allhe wanted was me.
Andso I did what any sane, rational girl would do. I ran to him, leaped into hisarms, and let him catch me.
Hisarms wrapped around my legs and held me there as our mouths crashed together.We kissed like we always kissed, desperately and voraciously and like we’d beenwaiting for this moment our entire lives. I held his face in my hands while Itasted him, butterflies swarming my belly and heat pooling between my legs.
God,how did he do this to me every single time? Would it always be like this?
Yes,I instinctively knew. Yes, with Wyatt, I would always want him this badly andlove him this madly and drive him this crazy. And he would do the same to me.
Thekitchen erupted with whoops and hollers and lewd suggestions. We pulled apartand smiled at each other.
“Ilove you, chef,” I whispered to him.
Hiseyes darkened, and he squeezed my ass. “I love you, Ky. Want to get out ofhere?”
